


One Day, Not Today

by Merfilly



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz has to make a lesson come home with his lover</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day, Not Today

In the earliest days of Megatron usurping the rightful way of things in his bid for complete, supreme power, Optimus Prime nearly lost the war for lack of true ruthlessness, deviousness, and sheer will to fight, given that it was his brother he contended with.

For the last, all it took was seeing the people, their plights as all energy sources were confiscated and taken for Megatron's needs. Optimus could and would fight for those weaker than himself. Acquiring an adviser from the Security Defense Force in the form of Ironhide gave him the ability to see the ruthless path of war, even if he did try to temper it with justice.

But for that touch of deviousness needed to counter the deceptions of Megatron's forces, Prime's salvation came in the form of a specialist named Jazz, full of life and bright energies, until it was time for action against the enemies.

While Ironhide became the Prime's best friend and body guard, completely at his own choice, for Prime abhorred the thought of any mech laying his life down in Prime's place, Jazz became something more. Jazz refused to give up life, in all its many-splendoured color.

"Ain't no reason to keep going, Prime, if you can't enjoy what there is. Even now."

Those words, that attitude, cracked the frost around the Prime's Spark, and it wasn't long before Prime's guerrilla force included Jazz all the time. Jazz was the one who kept Prime from sinking into the hopelessness when fate forced his hand, and Prime chose to send the Allspark away, rather than let Megatron have it. Jazz was the one who taught them all to think outside the logic squares, and it was often said that if Prime's personal team had a Spark of its own that Spark was called 'Jazz'.

Unfortunately, that meant Megatron knew just who to prioritize as objects of distraction, a priority list Starscream was willing to continue to use in Megatron's long absence.

`~`~`~`~`

Jazz could still hear. His optics wouldn't online again, but his audio receptors worked just fine. Maybe too fine. That was definitely Bumblebee getting thrashed by some 'Con with rotors.

"JAZZ!" The roar of his designation cut through all the sounds of the battle as Jazz futilely fought to be free of the clawed talons of the Decepticon leader. Jazz desperately hoped he could work his way out of the clutches he was in before Prime's voice got any more edged with violence. Prime wasn't supposed to sound quite that way, after all.

"Best be droppin' me, Screamer, before my main man there gets his digits on you," Jazz told him in a bluffingly confident voice. Jazz would worry about the landing on his own; he just needed down.

"I'll drop you, certainly," Starscream hissed. "From as high a point up as Prime can still see."

Such a fall would be more than enough to shatter every piece of Jazz's frame.

And Prime would see it.

Jazz started struggling harder, his audios tuned to the ground, using echolocation to try and gauge his altitude.

It was already pretty damn high when Starscream's entire body shuddered and those talons flexed open, dropping Jazz in a plummet of black, dizzying motion.

`~`~`~`~`

This time, Jazz could see. He could hear, too. The blissful quiet of his own berth. What he couldn't do was feel, which meant Ratchet had blocked his bio-feedback system.

The quiet was marred by voices in the corridor. Angry voices. He focused a little more on that, since he couldn't move or do anything for himself right now anyway.

"Damn fool thing you did, Prime, and you know it!" Ratchet was snapping.

"I will not lose any mech I can manage to protect!" the Leader informed his medic quite coldly.

Jazz wished he could flinch from the amount of ice in the Autobot commander's voice. That he did sound so... //Prime, what did ya do, for me?// He must have had this argument with everyone in the upper echelons.

"Look at you! You're so damn busted up..."

"Leave it, Ratchet. Tend to Jazz. I have the repair bots in my office." The conversation broke off with the heavy footed retreat of Prime, and then the door opening once Ratchet had recollected his calm. Jazz decided the best thing to do was play stupid, this once, and paid attention to the grumbling of the medic for more clues. From them, he knew that Prime had left himself fully open to attack, fired at Starscream precisely, and then been vicious in tearing apart the ones who attacked him as he ordered Ironhide to lay down crash foam. Despite the fact the fliers had unanimously chosen Megatron, Ironhide still had the capability, and followed orders to the letter. The net result had apparently been a victory, though one that had Prime's entire assault force in need of repairs for now.

Funny how talkative Ratchet was when it was everything Jazz needed to hear to make Prime behave.

`~`~`~`~`

Jazz shakily made his way to the berth he sometimes could convince Prime to use, laying down on it to rest. He then activated his comm long enough to inform Prime just where he was. Sure enough, the leader came in such speed that Jazz had to wonder who he was going to have soothe down for such rudeness from the Prime.

"You were not supposed to be out of berth yet," Prime accused.

Jazz leaned up just a little to see him, then scooted over on the large berth. "Decided mine was too dusty to lay in that long. Ya know how it is, when a thing's not used." He didn't like what he could see of his leader, plating still ugly with weld marks and some of the more delicate designs of his paint still blurred or marred by healing wounds. "Get over here, ya big lug," he told Prime.

There was moment of hesitation, but then Prime moved to the berth and sat, one hand lightly coming to rest on Jazz's. "Jazz, I..."

"Been acting like an idiot," Jazz told him cheerfully.

Prime reared back a little, shocked.

"You listen to me, Optimus Prime," Jazz said, taking charge despite being flat on his backplates. "It's a war. We get pounded, we pound back, and sometimes one of us doesn't come back." He made sure to lock optics for his next words. "One of these times, I'm gonna be that one. Not this time, but sometime, Optimus."

"Not if I can help it," Optimus growled, low and more menacing than Jazz was accustomed to, seeing the specter of the Lord Protector hanging over the more gentle of the brothers.

"You won't get a say!" Jazz snapped. He pushed himself up, despite the protests of all his frame and circuitry. The full force of that logic struck Prime like a physical blow, and Jazz followed up on it. "Get this down deep in the core of your processor, Optimus Prime, Leader of Cybertron and all Autobots everywhere! Without you, this war will be in vain. Without you, there is nothing left of Cybertron to live for. Without you, even if he is dead for once and all, MEGATRON wins!"

"But..."

"No." Jazz pushed immediately into the leader's arms, giving the physical comfort that he knew the tactile, open, eager youngling this mech had once been needed. "You won't be able to protect each of us, but each of us will, and must, protect you. So savor the fact I _am_ here, as long as we can, until it's no longer possible."

Optimus sighed, every line of his frame sinking in weary defeat by Jazz's words. "I cannot conscience such a time."

"Then don't think on it, stop thinking of what might have happened at that fight, and lay your big red and blue frame down so I don't have to keep sitting up like this, Prime," Jazz said, in just the right mix of serious and bluster to get just what he wanted.

Curled up in the big mech's hold later, Jazz knew he'd have to repeat this lesson time and again, but not today. Today was for healing, at last.


End file.
